


Warcraft Fic Dump

by AlternativeImaginativeBrand



Category: Diablo (Video Game), Heroes of the Storm (Video Game), StarCraft, Warcraft II, Warcraft III, World of Warcraft
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon can go suck an egg, Fic Dump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-29 04:40:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3882661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlternativeImaginativeBrand/pseuds/AlternativeImaginativeBrand
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Consider this the literary equivalent of a sketch pad, where I make use of Ao3 as a storehouse for whatever comes into my head, almost certainly always involving WC only. Probably a waste, but what do I care? /shrug</p><p>Update? Dunno. Whenever, I guess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. His Hair a Mossy Green Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> In another time and place, Illidan and Malfurion Stormrage switched positions. It was a very different time and place. 
> 
> Pairings: Illidan Stormrage/Tyrande Whisperwind, Malfurion Stormrage/Tyrande Whisperwind, some Tyrande Whisperwind/Maeiv Shadowsong and a little Maiev Shadowsong/Naisha
> 
> Inspiration: Heroes of The Storm has three skins which show Illidan as Archdruid, Malfurion as The Betrayer and Tyrande as his Warden. I wanted to explore how such a world might be different, and this seemed like as good a place as any to write it.

Illidan Stormage traced across the ground with his fingers, his legs hunched beneath him in a crouching position. His nose sniffed audibly, his amber eyes closed as he slowly turned his head this way and that, searching for...

 _There!_

Illidan's eyes shot open, his entire body tensing suddenly. Beyond him, about fifteen feet or so, he reckoned, by the edge of one of the moonwells, a satyr, one of the Legion's accursed little pets, was preparing to open a vial of some kind. It didn't take an astrologist to figure out what he intended to do with it. 

Illidan scowled under his breath. Rising to a stance that was halfway between standing up straight and kneeling down, he began to pad over to his mark, the sound of his footsteps silenced by the soft grass. 

The satyr chuckled malevolently as he removed the stopper from the vial. "It won't be long, now," he gloated, his shaggy hair glistening. "Soon, the Legion's invasion shall begin in earnest, and Lord Sargeras shall enter this world and wipe it clean of all that is good, and that fool Stormage shan't be able to do a thing about it!"

"Perhaps not, traitor..." 

The satyr turned just in time to see a fist flying towards him before it connected with his face, a second hand going for the vial of corrupting liquid and snatching it from his hand before he had time to recover. The vial was destroyed in a flash of leafy green energy, and the goat-like demon growled in anger and frustration before a hand tightened itself around his neck, killing his growl in his throat. He inclined his head to face his attacker and almost gasped but for the hand at his throat. He gazed in shock at the face of Archdruid Illidan Stormage. His eyes were a glistening, almost fiery amber; his hair a mossy green. 

"But you won't live to see what comes next!" 

And with that, Illidan tightened his grip with the speed and force of a shark's jaw, crushing the vile creature's neck inside his powerful fist.


	2. The Price of Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrosh and Varian don't agree on anything. 
> 
> That includes the fate of Thrall the traitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now this I had the idea for after seeing Thrall's Hellhammer skin in HotS. It's not very well-developed as a concept or as a shared skin theme. Just kind of standalone for some reason - so I took it and decided to make fun of the MoP ending with it.

Garrosh approached Thrall slowly. His eyes were full of hatred and betrayal. "You disappoint me, Thrall," he growled. "I don't know how Doomhammer could ever have trusted you." He raised Gorehowl for an overhead strike as Thrall stared up at him. The orc shaman's once green skin had become red and covered in spikes - the mark of renewed fel corruption, Garrosh noted with disgust. The Mag'har tightened his grip on the handle and brought it down to sever Thralls head from his tainted shoulders...

And his blade clashed against another. A sword of draconic origins - Shalamayne. Garrosh spun his head up to glare at Varian, who had stopped him, demanding an explanation. 

Varian indulged him. "His fate is not yours alone to decide," he said firmly. 

"I will not let you take this responsibility from me!" Garrosh shot back. 

"Enough!"

They both turned around to look at Jaina Proudmoore. Her expression was calm, though barely-contained fury radiated from her form. "We have all suffered from his crimes," she said, her voice layered with arcane power. "Both the Alliance and the Horde deserve to exact retribution upon him. Let the Kirin Tor take him and the witch Sylvanas to Dalaran; there, you may both mete out justice for all." 

"Why not do it here, Jaina?" Varian asked. 

"Now is **not** the time to argue with me, Varian," Jaina insisted, her voice rising. "I am allowing you to put one of my dearest friends to death because I know there is no forgiveness for what he has done." She laughed bitterly. "I'm sure my father would approve this course of action if he were alive," she muttered. 

Glaring at each other again, Garrosh and Varian nonetheless lowered their weapons. Mages of the Kirin Tor moved in to bind the fallen warchief in shackles of arcane energy. 

"How could you do this to your own people, Thrall?" Varian asked angrily. "You have led them into darkness. You have undone everything you yourself worked so hard to achieve!"

"You wouldn't understand," Thrall grunted. "You haven't seen the terrors I have seen. The Legion will consume this entire world now, because you stopped my new Horde."

"Enough of your excuses!" Garrosh yelled. "You are no martyr, Thrall! You are the downfall of our people! I will remember the Horde as it used to be.. not the _abomination_ you and that undead bitch turned it into!"

Thrall was silent as they led him away. Everyone watched him leave in solemn silence. 

"The Horde be needin' a new Warchief," old Vol'jin sighed. 

"Yes, and I can think of no better candidate," said Garrosh, "Than my loyal right-hand, who stood by my side throughout this... difficult time."

Everyone turned to look at Baine Bloodhoof, who stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to say. 

"Baine, I am a warrior, first and foremost," Garrosh continued. "Where you have adapted to the rigours of administration and brokering peace, I have not. If you will lead..." The orc placed his hand on his chest and bowed. "...Then I will follow."

Vol'jin, Eitrigg and Saurfang joined him in bowing to Baine. Gallywix tipped his hat. Lor'themar nodded and gave him the ranger-general's salute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, this is the first thing I've written in a while. What of it? It's not for lack of trying, I assure you.

**Author's Note:**

>  ~~Welp, that's that. Next up? Whatever comes into my head. kthx brb :P~~  
>  Job's only half-done. I'll get back to it someday I don't know when.


End file.
